Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters

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Humanity: Sillier than a shriner's convention.

There's a tiny triangular park down in Soho where kids from the local vocational school go to eat lunch. In the center of this tiny park, maybe a third of a city block in area, there is a statue of a general from Uruguay. On the pedestal of the statue it says that it was a gift to the city of New York from the people of Uruguay.

How do normal people just go about their lives when there's a statue of Uruguay in New York City for NO APPARENT REASON. I don't understand it.

As soon as I read the inscription of the statue my whole day took on an entirely new dimension. For the first part of the day I had been living in a fairly rational world, doing normal everyday things like taking the Space Cowboy costume to the storage locker and helping my boss put the roses his stalker sent him into the vase they came with, then placing said vase in MY office on the off chance that the plant food that came with the flowers was actually some sort of neurotoxin that only became activated when placed in water. I'm expendable.


I should've expected such shenanigans in lower Manhattan where the streets are named instead of numbered and make no sense. I was not prepared. It's my own fault, really. I'm the one to blame.

You might be asking why I would find a statue dedicated to an Uruguayan hero would get under my skin so. It's not the statue itself, which is respectably attractive and quite solid looking. It's more the thought process behind the statue.

Who on earth thought that New York City needed a statue of an Uruguayan general? What was the thought process? Were the people of Uruguay sitting around trying to figure out what to give New York on its birthday when they hit upon this idea? "Hey Hector, what do you think New York wants?"

"I dunno man. It's got a lot of stuff."

"Has it got a statue of the hero of Uruguay?"

"Probably not, but why would it want one?"

"Who doesn't like the hero of Uruguay? I like him. Do you not like him? Are you a traitor?"

"No, no, I like him I like him."

"Good, then it's settled. A statue of the hero of Uruguay it will be. Oh what a gift."

That's the best case scenario. What if the government of New York was asked what it wanted and that's what it replied? What if there was some Uruguay fetishist in Gracie Mansion who begged Uruguay for the statue? The whole thing scares me a little.

It goes beyond that, though. It's just the whole nature of social relationships that lead up to the creation and placement of a statue like that. Beyond the basic necessities of the ore being mined and the marble being quarried and that, there's an artist who spent his entire life honing his statue making skills so he could produce a statue of this caliber that nobody looks at. There's the money spent to make and then ship this statue here (assuming it was made in Uruguay, which might not be the case.) There was no better use for that money?

"We could buy food for the peasants. As they keep reminding us through their bloody riots they are starving."

"Food? How can the peasants even think of eating at a time like this when the people of New York City have no statue of our great Uruguayan hero? Have they no souls?"

I'm supposed to go about living my life, dieting and searching for a woman to fuck and getting a nice normal job to contribute to the system and all that under these conditions? How do other people deal with the sheer absurdity of the world out there without either writing it out of their systems or going absolutely bat shit insane? There's a statue of a Polish King in central park holding two swords and charging, but at least that one I can understand. America has always had a secret fetish for monarchy (Hello Bushie Bushie) and we can't very well venerate the British monarchs at every pass seeing as how they're still sore at us for the whole revolution thing. But an Uruguayan general? We HAVE generals. We've got generals out the ass. We don't need to import.

It wasn't just the Uruguayan generals yesterday. Back at my office an 11 year old girl with the stage name Gia Bella gave a concert where she, and I am not making this up folks, sang the same bad old rap song 25 times through amplification so loud I could hear it in my office. By the third repetition I wanted to kill her. By number 7 I was ready to kill myself. Thankfully by 14 it turned into the sonic equivalent of a dull background headache and I was able to ignore it a little bit.

Of course this annoying little twit singing the same thing

Then there was the phone company where the call center was overloaded and apparently they didn't have enough lines to put everyone on hold so instead they said to "try back later."

The PHONE company didn't have enough lines to put me on hold.

Lest you think this possibly reasonable in some way shape or form I will add the rather important point that when I called back about 20 minutes after my last rejection I got a representative immediately, so there couldn't have been more than a few people on hold.

I have no idea how to react to that.

It's these little things that fill my brain and make it whirl in confusion. I can almost understand the big irrationalities, like Bush Administration policy or the fact that Chris Tucker has a career. It's the little irrationalities of the world that eat at me. The Wisdom of Crowds claims that when humans get together in diverse and independent groups the result is rational and smart decision making.

I say that it's Uruguayan statues or an 11 year old belting the same song out 25 times while people actually bother to LISTEN to it.
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